Don Juan Triumphant
by lost2darkness
Summary: Imagine if Raoul had died in the chandelier incident, leaving Christine at the mercy of the Opera Ghost. This is the story of what would have happened. EC. Angst. 2005-2006 – Epilogue added.
1. Chapter I: The Chandalier Disaster

**This is my first PotO fan fiction..so lets just say I am slightly new at this. I greatly would appreciate some reviews, and I realize I need to work slightly more on description. If anyone has any suggestions please let me know! **

**This fanfiction is my origional work...but all of the characters are (c) to Gastone Leroux**

**Parts of the plot are (c) to both Gastone Leroux, and Andrew Lloyd Webber's Musical/Movie\**

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"You are frightened...but do you love me? If Erik were good-looking, would you love me, Christine?"_**

"Do not tempt destiny! Why do you search my soul for something I would hide as a sin?"

**_Let the Opera Begin..._**

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Christine screamed, and clutched onto Erik's frame as they plunged down through the center of the stage.

"Christine!" Raoul, who had already climbed down from his theatre box, leapt to the stage. "Christine!" He turned, hearing the screams and cries of the audience behind him, to find that the chandelier was coming down upon him.

"Oh my God!"

"Its over!"

"We are ruined!"

Cries of panic, and fright swept through the auditorium, and the opera house quickly began to empty of its occupants. Flames licked away at the polished wood and satin seats, as well as the Phantom's own opera music.

Below the inferno, the Phantom roughly dragged Christine through the caverns. With a barely controlled rage, he ushered her into the boat and began to row furiously.

"Welcome to my Hell!" he spat as she crouched against the bottom of the boat in fear. "look around you, and learn where you will be chained as I have been imprisoned to this God-forsaken place."

They approached the shore, and Christine gave a cry of pain as he lifted her without his usual tenderness from the vessel. When he set her down beside a cavern wall she back up to it, and cowered as his raving ensued.

"I was abandoned! I was shunned and shamed! I am a loathsome hated creature Christine! Why!" he practically shook her, then his hands went limp on her shoulders, as he nearly fell for support, and barely whispered. "Why?"

Christine, who had been staring defiantly, breathed uneasily as Erik shook with sadness, rage, and regret. She stood as if she were made of marble, until his hand moved to the mannequin, and handed her the white garment. The look in his eyes got the point across, and she accepted the dress from him nervously before dashing off to change.

"Oh Christine…" Erik shook his head, and sat down on a protruding rock from the cave's floor. He fingered the engagement ring that Raoul had offered her sadly, hoping that there was a chance she would accept it willingly. He could not let her go again.

"Have you finally satisfied your bloodlust?" she demanded, having regained her courage, "Do you intend to keep me here for your further satisfaction?" He smiled as he observed her in her wedding dress...but it quickly faded at her words.

"The world created me for what I am, I only fight to survive." He moved towards her with grace and agility of a cat. She stared back trying to show courage, but was frightened beyond words as he stroked her cheek tenderly. He bowed is head as she turned hers from him.

"Oh Christine! I have never known love from a woman…even my own mother rejected me. She gave me my first mask, and it was she who sent me away…"

He placed the ring into her palm, proposing peacefully. She looked down, away from him, and felt a veil placed upon her head. After a moment of silence followed she answered him in a whisper.

"Your face, my poor Erik, is not your imperfection. It is your soul that needs to be saved."

She uncovered a mirror, and the two stood in silence for a minute, almost able to hear the cracking of the flame above them. Christine, fatigued sat down, and cupped her palms to observe the ring. When she looked up, she found Erik above her.

He knelt down. "Please Christine…" he whispered. "I love you." He nearly choked on the words, afraid of her answer, of what she would say.

Christine smiled sadly, tears flowing forth from her eyes. "I-I don't know Erik." She swallowed, as his expression turned withdrawn. "I can't…"

"You did for Raoul." He said coolly, pretending her answer had not crushed him as it had.

Christine bit her lip in attempt to stifle her a wave of oncoming tears. _Where was Raoul_? She shuddered, remembering him call to her on the stage before the chandelier had collapsed.

"Raoul!" she cried, realizing what could have possibly been his fate. Her entire body shook as she sobbed.

Erik felt guilt creep over him as Christine mourned for her lover. As much as he detested that boy, he could not help but feel sympathy for weeping Christine and rue the death of Raoul. Erik sat beside her, and tenderly encircled Christine's trembling frame, coddling her, and stoking her hair as though she were still a child. Christine accepted his embrace, taking comfort in the very arms of the man who had brought on her pain.

"Shhh…" he gently stroked her neck and back, as she grieved in the dull candlelight of Erik's home beneath the Opera house.

After a time, he brought fingers under her chin, and turned her tear-stained face toward him. His heart nearly stopped upon seeing her in such a state, and he could not bear her sadness. His eyes quickly welled with tears for her.

"I love you Christine." He sighed as he brushed a loose mahogany curl from her face, and grazed his fingers over her soft, pale cheek as though she were a fragile ornament, not really meant for his hands. She opened her eyes slowly, and stared at him sadly with a weak smile.

With utmost care and patience, Erik planted a kiss in her forehead, and then looked back to Christine. He was surprised and delighted to find she had not withdrawn from him. Hesitantly he kissed her again, this time lightly brushing his lips against her left cheek.

Christine did not speak, only looked down to the floor of the cavern.


	2. Chapter II: Emptiness

**Thank you for all of your kind reviews! I love you all! - hands out Erik plushies -sorry…that was rather childish. Anyway…**

wendela**: thank you for pointing out my errors…you made a very good point in saying Christine couldn't know about Raoul…so I will have to edit some of the first chapter.**

**Also...my friend pointed out Raoul's title is spelled both 'Viscount' and "Vicomte" Anyone know which is correct? Let me know if you do!**

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Wearily Christine managed to drag herself from her position on the cold, unforgiving rock-floor. She felt completely void, as if her tears had completely washed out her soul, and left her with pure instinct to survive on. As depressed as she felt, she knew that her body needed its rest, and so she succumbed to her need of sleep.

Pale and still wearing her 'wedding gown', Christine appeared as a ghost when she wandered past Erik, and into lavish bed where she had laid once before. The feel of soft silk of the sheets where her body had been cramped on the floor sent her into an almost instant, dreamless slumber.

Erik had watched Christine drift into the bedroom, sadly. Mayhap sleep would bring back the spirit that had drained out with those tears. He did not know, and the uncertainty of it all made him uncomfortable. Not knowing just what to do, and not wanting to awake Christine, he retreated to his study, and hastily replaced his mask. All in order, and sure that Christine would have something to wear when she awoke, he left the lair to see the remains of the Opera Populaire, and try to salvage a few things that might be needed. Now that his source of income was rather diminished (it wasn't that he had no money, but he would have to be a bit more frugal now), he would need to find something to do about the situation.

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How long she slept, Christine had no idea. Though when she had descended into the Phantom's haven, it had been dark. She had never actually been to his home in the daylight hours, and to her surprise the entire cavern was illuminated with pale sunlight, that reflected against the mist. Candles, no longer needed remained unlit, and reflections of the water danced across the walls and ceilings in a joyous manner. In both waking and sleeping hours, this place seemed magical.

With grace, and still in a sleepy daze, Christine brushed loose hair from her face, and stood up from the bed. The train of her skirt was left upon the soft sheets, as she descended from the bedroom, and toward the organ. With no musical sheets upon its rack, the instrument looked desolate and abandoned, for some reason making her unsettled. Then, almost like a slap across the face she remembered that Raoul was probably dead.

For some reason, the tears did not come. She surprised herself, but figured she had cried a lifetime's worth of tears in only one night before. Curious, and sure that Erik was not around to watch her, she decided to pry into the secrets of the Phantom. She passed the organ, and continued down to the study.

She passed by the burned out skeleton miniature of the opera house, unable to give it more than a glance. Her eyes scanned endless papers scattered about, with random statues and figures upon tables. She however also noticed many pictures of herself, some drawn in charcoal, some sketched, inked, and even one small painting. She shivered as her hand nearly grazed a portrait of her when she had just arrived as an orphan to the Opera house. He had been watching her for such a long time…but he had not done anything cruel when she was young. With a sigh she remembered the long nights when she used to cry herself to sleep, but they would stop when the Angel of Music would sing to her. It was always a dream, but now she knew it was not.


	3. Chapter III: Beauty of Music

**Erg...my computer shut off from the internet for a day or so, and then wouldnt let me in. Well, at least I wrote something...**

**Thanks again for your lovely reviews!**

**Also a few of you pointed out that 'Viscount' is the English version of 'Vicomte' the actual title(which is French).**

**Anyway..Im sorry the story is moving a bit slowly...but I dont want to rush things.**

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Erik patiently twisted the mangled wire into the keyhole of the manager's safe. Since most of the other valuables in the office had either been destroyed in the fire, or stolen by someone else, no one had been able to retrieve the money that was stored within the ironclad box. With a satisfying click, it opened, and Erik hastily counted the money at hand.

"434, 000 francs…" he muttered. About ten times as much as he usually received for paycheck. He had been expecting more, but guessed with the masquerade and his opera, much would have been taken out to pay for expenses. It would have to do. He placed the bills into a bag, and exited the manager's office, and turned to enter the dressing rooms. Finding, to his delight, they had suffered little damage from the fire, he selected a few essentials, including dresses for Christine, perfumes, a cloak, and a few other items before beginning his return to the house by the lake.

He was about the pass the chapel, and stopped, remembering the portrait of Christine's father. Deciding it would be something she might like to have, he also obtained the photograph before completing his descent.

Christine turned her head in surprise as the gate to the lair cranked open, and Erik rowed in the flat vessel. He was again wearing his white mask and cape, and in the place where she usually sat, an assortment of obscure objects had been dumped into a pile. She did not move or speak as he moored the boat and gently grasped the clothing he had brought for her.

"How are you feeling, mademoiselle?" He asked as he approached.

She did not answer, and instead looked down to the ground. Erik gave a slight sigh, and stretched out his arms to present the dresses to her.

"Where would you like these?"

Christine glanced at the dresses, and gingerly ran her fingertips along the smooth fabric. They stopped as her hand collided with his. She looked up.

"Where ever you think they should be." She said meekly, and stayed still as he delivered the clothing to a closet hidden in the depths of the cave. By the time he had unloaded the boat completely, he noticed the time was getting late. Perhaps a lunch was in order.

"Christine?" he approached the silent girl. "Are you hungry?"

Though she knew she should have been to overwhelmed with grief to eat anything, the mention of food made her stomach cry out for lack of it. She had eaten little before Don Juan, and it had been a good twenty-four hours since that. Despite herself she nodded.

He smiled genially, took her had, and gently guided her to the table. She sat quietly with her hands folded on her lap as he set the table with fine silver and served a quaint meal of bakery-fresh bread, fruit, and some local cheeses. After eating as little as her body would allow (she wanted to at least keep up an impression she was mourning), she watched as he gracefully ascended from the table and retreated to his music.

For some reason she was guilty for not being a better companion to her angel, why she did not know, but nonetheless she felt awful as he droned a sad, melodic tune from the organ. Finally, with a push from her conscience, she approached him, and stood at a slight distance from the bench and musician.

After finishing the bar, Erik stopped, and glanced over toward her idle figure.

"Do you need anything?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, I just wanted to watch you play. It is a beautiful thing to watch someone practice their talent." She attempted a weak smile.

He smirked. "I agree. Come and sing while I play. To watch someone so beautiful and talented is even better."

Unsure of herself, Christine crept closer, and stood nearby as he began to play.


	4. Chapter IV: Lover's Song

**Hey…I am sorry to wait so long…and I apologize for the horrific story that will follow…I know it totally sucks...I'm just so uninspired. Plus with the move, I am fairly unable to get onto the computer and type it out. Please excuse.**

**The good news is I finally saw it on Broadway and I read the Susan Kay novel! So now I know a bit more about the characters.**

**Again...please excuse the length, and quality. It is utter crap…but I needed to update. **

**P.S. Thank you to all of my reviewers!**

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" _I love you and You are mine…"_

They sang for what seemed like an eternity, and whether it was only minutes or hours both of them found themselves lost within the music. Soon they were no longer in the bowels of the Opera house, but instead soaring in flight through the heavens like the angels they were to each other. As their songs came to a close Christine found herself crying, and with a hand resting on Erik's shoulder. Erik himself was coming out of the spell that had held them both, and looked into Christine's eyes, his heart throbbing with a strange mixture of grief, lust and awe.

"Christine…" his hand stroked hers softly, making her quake within. How could she not feel his devotion toward her? It was a question both asked themselves, each with a different reason but the same answer.

He abruptly stood up, and lovingly encircled one arm around her waist. She did not draw back, and found herself savoring his presence and strength. As she leaned against him, she closed her eyes, and began to breath in relaxed intervals.

Erik's heart beat rapidly however, as her small frame pressed against him, as if in dependence. He gently brushed the hair from her face, and let her head rest upon his chest. How he longed for this…. for her love.

He gently kissed her neck, right below the ear, his lips barely brushing against her skin, as if she would break upon his touch. With liquid grace, she turned to face him, with contented, half-closed eyes, and smiled.

"Yes…"

Erik raised an eyebrow at her comment.

"What is it Christine?"

"Yes, I will marry you Erik."

She leaned forward, and kissed him, removing his mask. Tears of happiness escaped from his eyes, as they shared a moment of bliss. With a tremulous voice, Erik whispered softly into her ear.

"Christine…I love you."

He nearly choked on the words, but they relieved him somehow. With another passionate kiss, they embraced, taking pleasure in each other's warmth.

The moment began to fade, as Christine realized her promise. She knew enough of his past that he was not always this gentle creature that he was now. She hoped that maybe her love could keep his wicked manners shut out. He said he had never been truly loved before.

With a quivering voice, she whispered into his ear. "Erik…"

Though she had not attempted to be released from his embrace, the tone in her voice worried him. "What is it Christine?"

"I would like you to do something before we are married. Not for me, but for yourself."

He smiled, and answered back. "Anything for you Christine."

She turned to face him with her request. "Please go to confession before we are wed. Your sins should not last with you forever."

His eyes turned dark, and he said nothing for a moment. Then, gravely he muttered. "I will." _But not for me. _He added silently. God did not care about him, and he doubted that a confession would change that.


	5. Chapter V: Investigation

**Thank you for all of your reviews! I am so sorry I abandoned you all for so long! I hope I can write to make up the time that was lost with the move. **

**If anyone has suggestions or questions I would be glad of them! **

**Anyway…let the story continue.**

Madam Giry bit his lip with frustration. Damn Erik! She had managed to lose the Phantom in all of the confusion, and she worried greatly for Christine, who had always seemed like a second daughter to her. She dared not to think of what might have happened to the girl, amidst Erik's rage. Had only she not taken his mask! Three days later, Giry sat in an office, pleading for the girl's case, while all the men cared about here was the murder of the vicomte.

" Madame, you say you have seen the man, prior to 'Don Juan'?"

"Yes, yes! For the umpteenth time, yes!" She shook her head impatiently. "Monsieur, there is a girl down there, and I fear greatly for her safety."

The man made a dismissive gesture, and shook his head. "If any harm was to come to her, it is to late Madame. I am sorry for your loss. Are you a relative?"

She let out a sigh of exasperation. "No Monsieur, but she is important to both the Opera, and I."

"Madame," The man rubbed his temples, distressed with the aging ballet-instructor. "Madame, there is nothing we can do for her at the moment. I assure you we are doing all we can. If all of the information you can give us has been given, I ask you to please, go home. I am sure we can find a way to take care of the girl, and if anything has befallen her, the man will surely pay for it."

Madame Giry pursed her lips, drawing in all of her inner rage to say no more. She left the building in silence. If they would do nothing, she would go down to Erik's lair herself, even if it meant possibly not returning.

Christine opened her eyes, and smiled, to see Erik offering an arm out of the bed. He had obviously been up for hours, and was wearing yet another one of his expensive suits. He gave her a genial smile as he helped her from the bed.

"Good morning Christine. I went to the priest before you woke, and confessed. I also arranged for our wedding day." He placed a kiss on her hand, and led her down to a separate cavern, closed by a draped cloth. In the center of the cavern, a deep hole in the rock floor made a pool. Christine noted steam rose from the pool. She also say the candles upon the ground and shelves, and breathed in a fresh scent of lavender.

"I supposed you might fancy a bath before we wed. The water is hot so be careful. If you need me, just call my name." He left her alone, and closed the drape with a swift motion. Christine glanced to the corner of the room, and saw what she could only guess was the wedding gown. A smile crept to her lips, and the corners of her mother turned pleasantly. As she climbed into the tub, and settled in the hot water, she began to hum a little tune.

Erik listened contently as Christine's voice echoed through the cave. He had done as she bid, and had managed to get a priest who would wed them, though it would defiantly limit his budget.

A little while later, Erik heard the humming cease, and strained to hear, in case something could be wrong. He was nearly about to draw back the curtain himself, when he saw Christine walk out of the bath-chamber. She was holding up the back of her dress, and approached him with bashfulness.

"Erik, I could not find the veil."

Erik did not respond, as he gazed upon her. This reminded him so much of her first victory, when she triumphed the role of Elisa in Hannibal. Her pale skin, and the white dress seemed to glow against the dark cave wall. He knew that she was the true angel of music, but now he could see it for himself. Finally, out of his stupor, Erik placed the veil onto her head.

"So tonight," he smiled. "You will be my wife."


	6. Chapter VI: the Wedding

**Thanks for the reviews! hugs you all and gives you each a Gerard picture **

**Anyway, I realized Erik did a lot of unnessecary talking in the last chapter…and I was a bit rushed I guess. :P I don't like it much, and hopefully this chapter will be both better in quality and quantity!**

**I see many people have pointed out Christine's odd behavior, and I shall attempt to amend and explain that in the following chapter. I am not much a fan for writing weddings, and unfortunately, I know what is going to happen AFTER, and so on, but the wedding itself is walking on a frozen pond where I don't know if the ice is thick enough. Though I promise, you shall not be dissapointed next chapter!**

**Thank you so much for your time and reviews! **

"Tonight!" Christine, shocked, had not thought he would arrange for the occasion so soon. "But, it is so soon!"

Erik, a little hurt by her comment replied curtly. "Sooner the better, don't you think?"

Christine nodded, though mostly to herself, for Erik had turned and left for his organ. Surprised by his sudden ending to the conversation, she followed him to the instrument, and placed one delicate hand upon his shoulder.

"Erik," she asked timidly, "is something wrong."

He smiled, one of his usual, and often grim smiles before answering. "No Christine." He lightly touched her fingers, and gently brought her hand into his. As he ran his fingers over hers he said, "Christine dear, is there anything you would like as a wedding present?"

Christine, breathless with his caress, shook her head, and managed a short "No, Thank you." Erik closed his eyes partway and smiled.

"I will be out to buy your bouquet. How do roses sound to you?"

Christine nodded, and blushed slightly as he kissed her cheek.

"I won't be long."

Erik had indeed gone to great lengths to obtain such roses in mid-winter, and Christine almost gasped at the beauty of them. Another thing that surprised her so, was that the roses were not all the traditional, and somewhat morbid red that Erik had so often sent to her.

"Erik, these are lovely. But why ever did you choose white?"

"I thought the white symbolized you, for your purity, and the red, for our passion." Both recalled their song, and how they had held each other at its climax. It had been as if no one else were there to see, even though an entire audience, including Christine's fiancé.

Shaken from the memory, Erik smiled and said, "Get ready, we have to leave soon."

Christine, already wearing her dress gave him an odd look, and decided she may as well fumble about with her hair before they departed.

They arrived at the church when it must have been after midnight. Christine looked warily at the looming spires of the church, and instinctively grasped Erik's arm. He took it as a loving gesture, and took her arm as well, leading her through the tall wooden doors of the empty church.

They entered in near silence, the sounds from their shoes echoing throughout the empty hall eerily. Only small candles lit up portions of their walkway, and beyond a few feet, the rest of the pews and halls were impossible to see. The girl was frightened by the lack of light, though Erik had never found it disturbing, and continued the trail until he came up to the small, secluded area of the confessionals.

An aged priest, thin and pallid greeted them with a shaky sign of the cross, and led them to the alter, lighting a candle to lead the way. When he finally reached the destination, (their progress had been slowed by the old man's limp), he had retrieved a battered pair of eyeglasses from within his robes. He cleared his throat, and opened a spine-cracked, dog-eared book, reading in a raspy voice.

"We are gathered her today to witness these two people in holy Matrimony…"

Christine attempted to listen to the old man with intent, but her mind could not be set to rest. As soon as she had come up to the cool night air, it seemed, she had been shaken from her spell, and realized just what her promise had been. She began to dread what was to come after this night, knowing that she would essentially belong to him. What frightened her most was yet to come.

Erik himself was not so shaken, though he was a bit concerned for Christine when her face was ivory in the dim candlelight. He took it as being to long underground, and in the Opera. Perhaps she truly wasn't feeling well.

The priest coughed and began to mumble a bit louder, bringing both of their attention back.

"Do you Erik, promise to love and cherish Christine as long as you both shall live?"

Erik murmured a soft reply, almost musically. "I do."

Christine listened biting her lip, and trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

"Do you Christine, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

_This is the point of no return… _"I – I do." She tried to calm herself. Surely, surely it would be fine. Erik had always been kind to her. She hoped he had not been offended by her hesitation.

"Then with the power vested in me," the priest was seized with another fit of coughing, then continued. "With the power vested in me I now pronounce you man and wife."

He shut the book with a loud crack that could be heard throughout the church, and shuffled away without another word. Erik turned to face Christine, and very slowly lifted the veil from her face. She drew closer to him, and nearly melted as he gently kissed her, then more passionately.

When they finally released, he took her hand and led her from the church to their waiting carriage.

"Are you sure he is dead." She barely asked the question before wishing she had never even though the words.

"Who?" Erik helped her through the door, then sat beside her.

Christine said nothing, though Erik could practically hear her thoughts. _Raoul! _Erik nearly cursed, but having been raised to never curse before a lady, he refrained from doing so.

"It was in the newspaper. I am sorry Christine." He could not savor her tonight, she would be to reluctant. _But maybe, _he mused, _she did not love him like I love her. Maybe he was truly only a love that is shown between brother and sister. There is that chance. _

He did not say anything else, and though Christine did not cry outright, he could not be sure she did not.

She was asleep by the time they arrived back to the Opera, and Erik had to carry her the entire way down. He had laid her gently into the low-flat boat, when from the shadows a familiar face emerged.

"Madam, nice to see you this evening." Erik shifted uncomfortably, as the woman offered no such greeting.

"Erik," Madam Giry looked sternly at him. "What have you done to her?"

Though she had attempted to mask the fear in her voice, he could sense it nonetheless. "You need not worry Madam, she is safe."

"She is sleeping I suppose?" she glowered at him. "And then what? You shall simply hold her underground until you die? She can't live in that hole forever Erik. You know that as well as I. Now tell me what has happened, and let me take her to my home. You surely can trust me."

Erik grinned with contempt. "You will not take my wife from me." He whispered the words thickly and slowly. The old ballet mistress stared with shock.

"You married the girl?"

"Yes," he said forcefully, but still not to loudly for fear of waking his bride. "Now go, and if you do not believe I treat her like my better then you had better mind your own business."

He leapt into the boat, and pushed off from the shore with his foot.

Madame Giry ran to the edge and whispered to herself, "Take care of her Erik." The woman shook her head in disbelief, and left. She however, did intend to return.


	7. Chapter VII: Wedding Night

**I was trying to decide whether to save this scene for later, due to the fact that if things are rushed they are not always so good, but for the sake of the story, and what needs to happen later, I decided to let the games begin! **

**Also a quick thank you to all of my reviewers…if it weren't for you I would have stopped. Sorry to keep you waiting!**

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The gondola ran aground at Erik's lair, scraping gently upon the rock and gravel of the shore. Erik, smiling with a happiness he had rarely, or never, felt before, he gently nudged Christine awake. She was dazed as she opened her eyes, and did not remember that this was the thing she was so dreading. It was not that Erik was horrid, or he would harm her, or anything of the sort. She would have felt this way whomever she was to wed. The wedding night would be a landmark that could, and would change everything.

Only, Christine was still in the world of dreams, and felt so very much like she was reliving the first night that he had brought her here and sang his love to her. It had ended a nightmare, but so far, she was only reliving the sweet and tender caresses of the first part of her dream.

Still in the bottom of the boat, Christine looped her arms around Erik's neck, and he gently held her and lifted her from the craft in a short, swift gesture. Letting her to her feet, but still holding onto her, they walked slowly past the organ, and up the small stairway. Before they managed to quite make it to the bedchamber, Erik stopped and kissed her.

It was nothing like the kiss at the church.

Sure, the second one had been flavored with a touch of passion, but this could not even be compared! Erik's voracious embrace stirred her with feeling she had felt only twice before in her life. Once, the first time she had come down to this place, and the second, the night of Raoul's death. On stage, in front of hundreds of people, she had found the passion with Erik she had never, and would not have hound in Raoul. His dark, seductive voice, and nimble fingers brought her to her knees, like a slave to a master. But he did not force her to do anything, other than to be with him. He could not force her to love him.

_And there is no need to…_ Christine thought as her angel kissed her deeply again. Impulsively she gripped his shirt, trying to even the passion out, unable to handle any more, but trying so very hard to get more. _More!_ Both of their bodies screamed out, and neither had done more than kiss.

Erik and Christine pressed closer to each other, their clothing the only remaining barrier between their bodies. Feverishly, they kissed again and again, Erik suddenly plunging his kisses further down her neck. Christine cried out in pure ecstasy as his hands pressed against her.

The sensual, musical moan of Christine nearly brought the Phantom to his knees. Yet he still managed to lift her from her feet a second time, and walk toward the red velvet sheets of the bed. As she felt the cool metal of the outer portion of the bed, her mind started, and she awoke suddenly, and violently from her stupor. Erik's hands pressed firmly against her back, constricting her to him made her squirm with fear.

"Erik! Erik! Let go!" She gasped. Sadly surprised, he let her down gently.

"I will leave you then, Christine…to work on my music." He turned to leave, but instead felt a hand lightly brush his arm.

"No…don't leave. Its just that." Christine bit her lip, quivering. "I – I am afraid."

Erik watched her face, and smiled kindly. She needed his help as much as he needed her. Especially since it would be Christine's first time, it would be painful. He could not bear to hurt her.

"Christine, if you wish to wait, you may." He almost regretted the words, for the wait could be interminable.

She took a deep breath and shook her head. "No Erik. I am your wife." He could see she was still very frightened of the prospect, and would try to pursue it as gently as he could. It would be quite the test of restraint.

Erik walked gracefully behind her, and sat down, gently massaging her shoulders with his hands. Christine ceased to remain so tense, and so he began to dexterously loosen the knots from her dress behind. Soon the dress fell to her waist, and her back was exposed to him. Christine's head turned, and he stroked her cheek lovingly.

"Are you sure my angel? If you do not want to do this, we do not have to." He offered her again the chance to avoid him, hoping desperately she would not take it.

Christine was silent for a moment, then turned her head again, so she could not see him. "It is my duty as a wife, and your privilege. I am young, and as you have proven naïve, but I still know that you want me in this way." She turned around completely this time, a blanket drawn to cover her chest, but nothing more (the dress had fallen to the floor). With her free hand she gently caressed his face, and pulled the mask free from the angry, horrific flesh beneath.

"And I also have the right to see you without the mystery of the Phantom."

Knowing he was in no position to argue with her about his mask, Erik surrendered it, and watched uncomfortably as she cast it to the floor with her dress. The white mask, and the wedding dress looked strange, but intimate. However neither of them dwelt on it for too long.

Erik freed himself of his shirt, and drew himself beside her even closer. He no longer wore his boots, gloves, or cape, now wearing only his breeches. Christine stared at even this interested, having never seen so much of a male before. The sheltered life at the ballet dormitories of the opera had done well to protect the young and innocent girls from men, but had not prepared them for a possible marriage of sorts.

He tenderly removed the blanket that was covering her, trying to keep himself from bearing down roughly, and possibly hurting her. To suppress it, he caressed her pale, sweet skin, savoring the smooth texture, and she savoring the rough skin of his palm and fingers. They drew closer together, and Christine placed a tentative hand to his chest.

He stroked her hair, taking it from her shoulders and placing it behind them so he could see her face even closer. For the first time he really examined it while she was awake. He had stared forever at her face when she slept in this bed before. Now he could do what he had wanted to so long before.

Christine had not removed her undergarments from the waist down, and gave a jump and sound of surprise when his hand crept up her leg, and toward her waist. She felt a sickly sweet wetness suddenly expel as he traced lazy circles on the flesh of her inner thigh. She gave a small moan, and kissed his throat and neck. His body pressed against hers uncomfortably, but she still felt a strange sensation that made her ache with desire.

He removed his last fragment of clothing and bore upon her, retaining a still slightly gentle movement, but nonetheless frightening for the inexperienced Christine. His hand came to her undergarments, and ripped the lacy fabric apart in one swift motion, the fluid sending a shiver up his own spine.

As they broke the last barrier between them, Christine felt a rush of pain, and could vaguely tell she was bleeding. She cried out in pain, and Erik suddenly stopped afraid for her.

"Its ok…" She gasped, biting her lip to suppress the pain, which she found was slowly turning to a pleasurable sensation. It soon drowned out any of the pain she felt, and the pure passion rendered them both practically senseless.

* * *

Erik awoke with Christine's arm draped across his chest. She shifted a little in her sleep, but did not awake. He smiled at her appearance, her curls tossed pell-mell across the pillows and her face, and her small frame barely moving with each breath. She smelled sweet from both the bath the day before, and also of the scents of passion. It was probably the best morning Erik had ever had, and he intended it to last as long as possible.

To avoid waking her, he stayed still for a few minutes, then extricated himself from her arm, and kissed her gently before leaving to attend business. He had to support her, if it was the last thing he did.


	8. Chapter VIII: An Unpleasing Surprise

**Thanks for your reviews! I hope the story gets more interesting, because I have plot ideas that may help this out a lot.**

**Let me apologize for the lack of updates…because I have been terribly over-whelmed with homework and cross-country.**

**For those that might like to see this, I uploaded a picture of their wedding night…**

**http/ to delay any longer…it shall finally have a point and start going somewhere!**

* * *

Christine awoke, stretching out on the soft, and still-warm velvet sheets. With a happy sigh, she sat up, expecting Erik beside her. With his absence, she began to worry, and got up. She was surprised that he was not with her, and since she heard no music, guessed he was not composing as usual.

"Erik?"

The cavern was silent, save to the echoes of her uncertain voice. It took her a moment to realize he was out, and she hoped he would be safe. If he was not, then she would be stuck down there forever, probably dying of hunger.

_But I am trapped here anyway! I will die down here…I am sure Erik doesn't intend to let me wander alone through the city, and I already know he will not like to socialize. Am I to be shunned from society?_

The only interaction she had had with another from the outside was the priest that had married them. Erik would be willing to take her to church, she was certain of that, but otherwise she worried. How would he deal with the problems of a woman? He had no inclination of any of this…or did he?

Christine sighed, and stood up. He legs felt damp, and sticky with sweat and a little blood from the night before, and she found she was sore. Uncomfortable as she was, she decided to bathe again. After all, with Erik gone what else had she to do?

* * *

Madame Giry grew anxious over Christine. Two months had passed, and she had seen neither hide, nor hair of Erik or his new wife. _Oh that she lives and his anger does not get the better of him! _

She had considered for days the possibility of paying the newlyweds a visit, but between searching for new jobs for both Meg and herself, and trying to pay the rent of their small apartment, she had neither the means nor the time. Erik had caused all of this, and if she did not get accepted to her next job, she would try to extricate his services to get her a new profession. He was good at manipulating people.

Meg had not heard what happened to Christine, and her mother had not told her, for Madame Giry suspected the truth would be worse than what Meg had in mind. Besides, she knew her daughter's mouth could run away with her, and it would be terrible if Erik were discovered. He would be hanged.

"Meg, dear, I'm going out."

Madame Giry left the small tenement, and strolled down the cobblestone path to the so familiar shell of the Opera Populaire.

* * *

"Erik…" Christine, with the lack of sunlight, had grown very pale, as much a phantom as her husband. Dark circles had formed beneath her beautiful hazel eyes, and she seemed tired, and lacked the charisma and energy to sing at her best. Erik worried for her health, remembering every day Madame Giry's warning.

"Erik. My courses haven't come for two months now…"

Concerned, he held her hand, and motioned for her to sit. "What are you talking about Christine? Is something wrong?"

"Erik, my courses…" She breathed in and out slowly. " Do you know what that is?"

He shook his head. "What is it Christine?"

" My monthly bleeding Erik…it hasn't come."

"And this means?"

"Erik…I think I'm with child."

His face paled, and for a moment, Christine thought he would faint. She felt tears coming on as he let go of her small hand and distressed, roughly ran his fingers through his hair. A child? His child? Well what was he to expect? Did he honestly think he would be able to go on like this forever, just singing with Christine, always alone? No. Christine looked so weak! If the child killed her, what would he do? He could not live without Christine….it would kill him.

"Christine…I will get some drugs, and it will be alright."

Her eyes widened in horror, and she stood up with more life than she had had in weeks.

"No Erik! I will not kill our child! How can you say such a thing?" She burst into a fit of tears, and sank to the floor.

"If you do not accept the child, what am I to do Erik? When you are gone I will have nothing! What possesses you to say such a thing?"

Numb, at first Erik said nothing. "I…I didn't know that's how you felt Christine. You look so weak, and I don't want it to kill you…" He knelt down on the cavern floor beside her, and gently cradled her against him. She held tightly to him, crying into his chest, and soaking though his loose white shirt tears of confused anguish.

It was then the Phantom's door-bell rang.


	9. Chapter IX: Visiter

**TheQueenSarah**** : I am so glad you reviewed! You have no idea how much your reviews make me feel confident about the story! I agreed to wait until they were wed before any 'fluff' scenes particularly because I can't see Christine willingly giving herself to Erik dishonorably, and I cant see him hurting her physically for that reason. Anyway, THANK YOU SO MUCH! hugs Your Phanfic is MUCH better than mine is…and I am inspired by yours as well!**

**Everyone else…thank you so much for your encouraging reviews! You help much more than you may think, so thank you so much!**

**About that picture…I will try to just post the basic link. It will have to be copied and pasted to be seen :P. (add the 'www' before it and spaces deleted)**

**deviant art . com / deviation /2 29406 76 /**

**Anyway,story will be more action-packed after this chapter, and I hope it remains interesting!**

* * *

Erik looked desperately from Christine to the opening of the ghetto. Who was calling on him? Could it be the authorities had hunted him down? He grew frightened, though not for himself. He did not care whether he lived or died, but since it would affect Christine so, he could not afford to let himself be captured or killed.

"Christine, dear, I must go and see who calls." He spoke gently and softly as she wept. For what exactly she did not know. Christine nodded mutely, swallowing back her tears, and allowed Erik to lead her to a chaise lounge to rest while he answered the unknown visitor.

Erik was greeted with a stony glare from Madame Giry. Trying to be polite he forced a weak smile.

"Good morning Madame. May I inquire to the purpose of your visit?"

Madame Giry stayed rooted in her spot, unnerved, but unwilling to listen to false airs. "Christine…how is she? Will you let me see her?"

Erik's expression was not altered. "Perhaps. Is that all that you wanted?"

Madame Giry scowled. "No. Since you had to burn down the Opera house, I no longer have a job, and neither does Meg. You made this mess, and since you do owe me a favor or two I expect that you could find both of us some means to get by."

Unsure of herself, and having never truly demanded anything from Erik before, she trembled involuntarily. His answer to her first question, however, alarmed her even more. What of Christine?

Remembering her cryptic warning when he had last seen her, Erik had supposed that Christine did need company outside of himself. Women enjoyed gossiping and talking didn't they? Maybe if Christine were able to speak to her foster-mother, both would be more at ease.

* * *

Christine was surprised to see Erik arrive with another person, and when she saw it was Madame Giry, she laughed with sheer delight at a sorely missed female companion. Erik winced as the Madame observed Christine's pale complexion, and thin appearance, but with Christine's happiness, his qualms were put to rest.

Christine accepted Madame Giry's motherly embrace with relief, and her mouth beginning to run away with her.

"Oh! Madame! So much has happened! You will never guess!"

Slightly muddled by her fast change in mood, Giry asked, "What is it my dear?"

"Erik and I are expecting!"

Madame Giry retained a calm expression, but could not keep her hand from flying to her mouth in a silent gasp. Erik and Christine…as parents? In this place? Erik watched her with penetrating eyes, seeing past the veneer of happiness Madame Giry sported for the soon-to-be mother.

Turning her attentions to Christine, she gave the girl's hand a quick squeeze of encouragement. "I am pleased you find joy in motherhood. Could I get you anything?"

"I would appreciate it if you or Meg could be the Godmother. Where is Meg?"

"She could not come today, I am sorry." Glancing at Erik, Madame Giry turned back to Christine. "Why don't you rest? A woman in your state should not be straining herself."

Christine percepted her cue to leave, and exited to the bedchamber, which Madame Giry turned to Erik.

"Expecting! Erik!" Madame Giry fumed. "Expecting? How do you plan to properly care for the child in such a formidable place as this? Look what it has already done to Christine! How can you expect her to survive the pregnancy, or even give birth to this child? Have you thought of none of this Erik?"

Rounding on her, Erik hissed. "I have already made plans to purchase a house far out in the country, where no one can find us, and you will not be there to berate me! "

Madame Giry scowled. "Erik, do you know even the first thing about raising a child? Do you have any idea how difficult this will be for you and for her?" She shook her head frustrated.

"I came here for a different reason other than to berate your think-minded decisions, Monsieur, I came here to demand that you find a way for me to provide for myself and Meg. Since you destroyed the Opera House, there is no place for me to work, and I do not intend to hire my daughter, a trained ballerina, to a factory or whorehouse. You caused this mess, and I want you to repair it."

Erik stroked his chin thoughtfully, silent for a moment. With a velvet coated voice, he answered.

"Perhaps I can purchase your services as a midwife, or servant. Care to move out to the country with us?"

She gave him an icy glare. "I do not intend to serve you."

"Very well…would you at least visit Christine then, until we can leave?"

"Of course, that is if you allow it."

Erik retrieved a free piece of paper, and began to jot down the addresses of several people who she could contact, and perhaps get a contract for Meg and herself with.

"Take these…and good luck. If this is the last we see each other, then I wish you luck."

Instead of a conventional farewell, she turned to him, and gave him a stony glare. "Get her our of here as soon as you can Erik. A flower cannot live without light."


	10. Chapter X: The Escape

**Thank you so much for your reviews! As some of you noticed, I double-posted the last chapter. Anyways, I was so touched by the amount of reviews recently, that I felt I HAD to post something new! This is why I updated. **

**This chapter has a bit more action, and I would write more immediately, but I have a lot of other stuff to do. Thanks again for the reviews, and I promise to update more frequently. If anyone has any questions or anything feel free to email! **

**Blah, blah…story time.**

* * *

He glared back with insolence. "As you have said before. Madame." He bowed and led her to the gondola.

"Erik…there is another reason you must leave. The police may come looking."

* * *

Christine, who had heard only a part of their argument, watched the boat disappear and the gate close behind them. As the light danced across the walls of the cave, she found she felt rather strange. It had been less than a year ago that she had been a child essentially. What had happened? In that short time she had become a wife and a mother….a woman. Change….

But was it for the better? Did she love Erik? Of course. And now she would have his child.

_Of course, had I married Raoul I would maybe be carrying his child instead. _But where would that have left her? In a beautiful mansion with servants and coachmen.

But no passion. No one could arouse her as Erik could. His music hypnotized her to compliance. She was his, thoroughly his. Nothing would ever change that…

She shivered, and silently wished for his return to be in haste. With a feeling of lethargy she yawned, and retreated again to the strange cast-iron bed, sculpted as a peacock. _Strange that Erik chose such a bird when it is a symbol of vanity._

* * *

Erik did not return immediately. He planned to leave that night if at all possible. Someone was on his trail. He was being hunted.

He hired a coachman to take them through the city, hopefully to reach the country before dawn, so they could move in to the small shack and be undisturbed. That would perhaps shake these men from their scent.

Erik purchased many new things while he was out, and though taciturn he was when out and about, he spent a great deal of time selecting new garments for Christine and items for their precious child. One beautifully sculpted crib drew his fancy, and he ended up spending more than he should have on such trivial things.

_At least Christine will like it. _As he turned to leave the shop he was confronted by a man dressed in nearly as much black as himself.

"Is there something I can help you with Monsieur?" He was squeamish as the man stared at him with conviction and purpose.

"No, though I do wonder what kind of man wears a mask as he browses the shops on a beautiful day as this. You know, you may get arrested. They are looking for such a man."

"Excuse me Monsieur." Erik brushed past the man, and hurried away from the shop. Though the man made no move to follow him, the man did watch him until he was out of his sight. Erik felt a bit of fear, and reminded himself that they would be leaving as soon as they could. This, however, did little to sooth his nerves.

* * *

It was practically evening by the time he made his way back to the Opera, the sun barely visible against the shining gold-plated roof of the burnt out shell that was one such beautiful architecture. It was a shame to have the glory lost, but now it seemed to pose a threat as well. Erik disappeared into the cellars silently and stealthily, descending with haste, for their departure would have to be tonight.

Christine greeted him lovingly as he docked the gondola, wrapping her arms around him in a warm embrace. He could feel her warmth, and reveled in it, as she clung to him. Yet he did not have time to languish.

"Christine, my dear, we are leaving this place."

Christine looked up to him. "Why Erik? It suits me fine. There is no need to depart from the Opera. It has been my home since I was just a child."

He unwillingly pulled himself free from her arms. "I apologize my dear, but we must leave, and quickly. Time is now the enemy. Rest until we must leave. I have to gather our things."

"Erik I have been resting all day! And why must we leave with such urgency?"

"The Madame believes someone is tracking me. After all, I am a murderer. No longer just a ghost. It is only a matter of time. Besides that, this is no place to raise our child. Now please rest. You may need to conserve your energy."

Erik had made several trips with the gondola by now, and had accumulated enough supplies within the carriage for their needs for the first few days. The remainder of their belongings would have to be left, or hidden. He would return for some of his mementos, though most of them were now really useless.

Christine had managed to rest for a few hours, as Erik worked ceaselessly, as every time she offered, or lifted a finger to help him, he stopped what he was doing and had her sit down again. She had finally given up, and succumbed to sleep.

Erik had finished his work now, though it was nearly midnight. He stood beside Christine's prone, sleeping figure, and watched as her chest rose and fell with soft breath. He did not want to disturb the scene, though time was slipping though their fingers.

He gently lifted her from the bed, and carried her toward the gondola. She stirred, and still almost dreaming, stroked his face, and smiled. "I love you."

"I love you too, my angel." He gently laid her down in the boat, and pushed away from the dock.

The passage was dark, and Christine had not risen still. Erik tried to arouse her senses, but she merely groaned and pushed him away. She began to stir, but never spoke, and could not walk. As he held her, he could feel she was warmer than usual, and had broken into a cold sweat. Wishing he could take her somewhere else he reluctantly carried her to the coach, and surrounded her with pillows, holding her gently. The coachman whistled to the horses, and the carriage began a rather jostled journey.

In merely minutes, however, the coachman came to an abrupt stop. Erik, quite irked by this, was about to get out and berate the man, but from within the vehicle, heard the coachman speaking to an officer. Though there words were muffled beyond recognition, he could tell by their hushed and urgent tone that he and his precious cargo were in danger.

Silently, he kissed Christine's forehead, which was now covered in a film of cold sweat, and slunk out of the compartment.

"So you have the masked murderer with you? At this moment?"

"Yes, and a young girl as well, however, I do now know if she lives. She looked deathly pale, and he carried her the entire way."

"The fiend! We will have another victim to add to the trial then, won't we?" The man was silent for a moment. Erik tried to maneuver around the coach without being seen.

"Just take them straight to the station. It shouldn't be to difficult, I will follow you."

"As you say, though perhaps YOU should drive the coach. I do not have a death-wish."

The officer scoffed. "Fine then. Get out, and I will continue to the station."

Erik swore, and found his way back to Christine's side. She was waning quickly, and began to moan in pain. Her hair had begun to cling to her face, and she writhed as if something were assaulting her, squeezing her.

"Erik? Where are you? My angel?"

Erik cradled her head. No time! No time! He waited until the coach had picked up speed, and then made his way to the driver's bench. With the unused whip, he strangled the officer, and was about to dispose of his body, when he noticed another officer was following them. He left the body beside him, and only increased the speed by a tad. When the crossroad came, he threw the officer's body from the bench, and whipped the horses. He heard the coach behind them screech to a halt before the corpse, and took off at full speed. They fled through the small cobblestone streets of Paris, Erik only thinking of one thing.

At last the horses could gallop no more. Erik leapt from the seat, and thrust the door open. Christine lay on the floor of the coach. She was grasping the seats, and her face was contorted with pain. A familiar, and detested smell came to his senses.

Blood.


	11. Chapter XI: Pain and Separation

**Cake and cookies to my awesomely phexy reviewers!**

**The story is beggining to move now, and excuse the...um...short chapter. It is perhaps a little rushed, but, oh well. **

**Don't lose hope in our favorite lovers!**

* * *

Blood.

It soaked through Christine's pristine clothing, turning the light blues and whites of the fabric to an ugly, brown hue. The bottom of the coach was not yet wet with it, but at the rate she bled, it soon would be. She cried out in pain as another spasm attacked her body, and she grasped for something, anything, wildly groping for something to hold her.

Erik kissed her forehead desperately. They could not retreat all the way to the country…it was simply out of the question. Christine would not survive the trip. Christine…could die? The thought hit him with force and feeling he had not ever felt before. He held her against him, and tried to stifle the pain she felt with his caress.

Anxiously, he removed his jacket, though it was still early spring, and night in Paris. Erik created for Christine a small nest, hoping it would provide enough comfort to last as the much shorter voyage they would have to make.

Erik then promptly closed the carriage door, and leapt to the driver's seat again, and whipped the horses to breakneck speed. Through the dark alleys of the city they clamored against cobblestone pavement. Erik occasionally believed he heard the sounds of the police still stalking them, but he did not falter in the least in his wild escapade through they desolate streets.

They coach came to an abrupt halt at the foot of a dark, dingy, but homey townhouse. Erik gently removed Christine from her place, sprawled in the carriage, feeling the sickly warm blood, which was seeping through her garments. She moaned in pain, and clutched his shirt as she pained. Erik, so nervous and unsteady, was not at all furtive as he knocked upon the black door of the tenement.

A girl with blond hair answered, and nearly screamed had her mother not come to the door right behind her.

"Meg, my dear, please be calm. I am sure nothing is wrong." Madame Giry glanced to Christine, struggling in Erik's arms, and hastily pulled the door open wide, and led him back to a bed within the house.

"Meg, start boiling some water, and fetch some blankets." Meg glanced at Erik once more, unsure and frightened, but did as she was told. Once she had left, the ballet mistress turned to Erik. "What happened? Just tell me quickly. Why did you not take her to a hospital?"

Erik, flustered and frightened for the first time in his life, laid his wife into the bed with utmost care. His answered was hurried, and nearly incoherent, as he attempted to explain what had happened to one of his oldest of friends.

"We were to leave town tonight, and I had hired a coachman to take us to a home I had purchased in the south, out in the country. I found out quite quickly that we were followed by the police, and I had no intention of going to prison, and leaving Christine a widow, or a simply single mother. I killed the man who had taken charge of the coach, and we ran. When I stopped, she was gasping on the floor, and she had begun to bleed. I couldn't just go to a hospital! I cannot afford to be captured!"

Christine thrashed and cried. Madame Giry began to dab her forehead. Meg gingerly brought in supplies, and though hundreds of questions could be written on her face, not a word was uttered from her mouth. Both women worked in silence as Christine held out in pain. After a few moments, Erik could take the silence no more.

"What is happening to her, Madame? What is wrong? Tell me!"

"Erik." She sighed. "I am afraid you are not a father. Christine is having a miscarriage."

"A what? Will she survive?"

After a pause the Madame opened her mouth to reply, but Meg came to the door panting and her face struck with worry.

"Mother! The police have come, looking for…" She couldn't bring herself to say his name.

"Erik, you must leave. I promise I will do my best to care for her. Come back tomorrow."

Erik held Christine's hand, trembling. "How can I leave her like this?" He looked to savoir with pleading eyes. "Don't make me leave her!"

"Erik. You must go. She will live, I promise. Just try to stay safe for her. "

He glanced about the room desperately. A shout from the floor below from the officer disturbed him.

"Erik. I love her too. I will care for her. Go!"

Erik said not another word, and placed a kiss on Christine's forehead, and promptly disappeared. Christine stirred.

"Erik!"


	12. Chapter XII: The Innocent Can Never Last

**Thanks for your reviews!**

**I actually was inspired to draw a picture for this chapter, by the song 'Wake Me Up When September Ends'. Listen to the song after or before you read the chapter if you can. I think it is pretty relevant.**

**Sorry to keep you all pawing at the non-loveness of Erik and Christine. Next chapter! I promise!**

* * *

The sun spilled into the quaint apartment, flooding the small room with soft, warm light. Christine awoke with a soft sigh. Squinting, and unaccustomed to the sunshine of spring, she covered her eyes.

"Erik?"

Her voice cracked, and she moaned as she sat up, still sore. She recognized immediately that this was not the grotto. A shout from outside also made her realize she was not in the country with her husband. Tentatively, she tried to rise from the bed, but finding she had not the strength, she simply laid back down. Again she tried to call him.

"Erik? Are you here? Erik?"

The door opened with a small creak, as Meg peered into the room.

"Christine! You are awake! How are you feeling?"

Both disappointed and pleasantly surprised Christine sat up.

"I am feeling rather sore…but alright. Is your mother here as well?"

Meg nodded. "Yes…this is our new flat. I realize it isn't very large, but we haven't all that much. How have you been for the last two months? It seems like ages!"

Then suddenly she interjected: "Did he rape you Christine?"

Christine gasped at the remark. "Of course not! Erik is gentle, and would never do anything to harm me."

Meg looked to the floor, avoiding eye contact. "Then why, if he is so gentle, did he crash the chandelier, and kill all of those people? I have a hard time making a pussycat out of a tiger."

"He is misunderstood Meg."

"I know." Meg replied coldly. "My mother's told me. It still isn't an excuse."

Christine let out a deep breath. "Can we not speak of this now? Where is your mother?"

"I'll get her for you _Madame._ " Meg left in angry haste. A few minutes later, Madame Giry arrived, unaccompanied. She sat down in a chair beside Christine, and said nothing.

"Madame…where is he?" Christine took hold of her foster mother's hand. "Do you know where he had gone?"

Madame Giry shook her head slowly. "No my dear, I do not know. You need to know that he left for your protection, and his own protection. I would be shocked if he does not return. However, you are far to weak to seek him out, or even if he arrives back tonight, I think you should not leave from here for at least a week or two."

Christine nodded quietly, staring at the floral pattern of the quilt.

"Madame, what happened?"

"You lost the baby Christine…you had a miscarriage."

Unwillingly, Christine felt a tear well up in her eye, and roll down her cheek.

"Does Erik know?" She asked, trying to repress her oncoming sorrow.

"Yes Christine, he knows. He was so worried for you…It is a wonder we got him to escape in time to avoid the police."

"Is that why Meg is upset?"

"She doesn't understand, Christine…She feels he has caused to much harm to have any good left in him."

A short silence ensued, but was broken as Christine asked, "Do you think he will come to see me tonight?"

"I would be shocked if he didn't."

* * *

_My Sweet Angel,_

_I will move heaven and earth to please you. I must attend business so our life together can continue. I need to –_

"Damn!" Erik crumpled the parchment, and hurled it to the corner, which was already accumulating a mountain of rejected letters.

He had been unable to leave the small, dark room since he had arrived. Policemen completely surrounded the streets on the lookout for a masked man, or any man covering his face. And with no shadows, due to extensive street-lights, he was not able to escape at night. There would be doubled officers then…

_I must get to Christine…Oh! She must be alright! Oh Christine!_ Erik sat against the wall, and began to sulk. He hated to be caged up like this…and with very good reason…

* * *

Christine had stood for vigil the entire night. Her wait had been to no avail.

_What if he isn't coming back at all? Why would he want a sickly woman, who could not even bear her a child? Oh Erik! Would you be so cruel? Or are you dead in the street?_

She wept openly for her lost child and missing husband. Now she was alone in the world a second time…and no innocence left to protect her.

In a week she was able to accompany Meg to the market, and she looked about for her spouse desperately. Knowing how unlikely it was she would find him, she looked and berated herself anyways.

One booth was selling roses. The red roses had begun to bloom so recently…. she reached out to touch one, and nearly began to choke with tears. She discreetly handed the money to the vender, and grasped a blood red rose. She held it close to herself, and once again safe at the apartment, she cried herself to sleep, the rose lying limp on the floor.


	13. Chapter XIII: Reunion

**Thank you for your generous reviews! I apologize for how slowly the story is going, hopefully it will get a bit more exciting as time goes on.**

**I tried a bit of humor in this chapter to spice things up, but I am not a good comic writer, and so if you don't catch it, it isnt your fault...its probably mine.**

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"Damn police…four bloody weeks!" Erik cursed under his breath, as he was able to leave his apartment for the first time. He had been unable to hear of Christine's welfare in that time…and he was positive something utterly terrible had happened. He decided he would go to Madame Giry's home immediately, but was forced to take the back alleys, as the streets still crawled with officers.

_The officers outnumber the rats!_ Erik laughed bitterly at his ill-attempted humor. He was in no mood for it, and it was of utmost importance to him that he reach the Giry residence as soon as possible.

The streets in which he walked were filled with all manners of low-life citizens. Harlots and thieves leered unpleasantly from the shadows. Erik leered back, his cold stare forcing them to retreat altogether. None rivaled the Phantom!

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"Christine…" Madame Giry held the girl's trembling figure. Since the scene in the market, when some gypsy had played a violin, Christine had remained indoors. Other tenants of the building began to speak of an insane, ghostly woman, whose heart was dead.

Christine herself felt so, and was nearly considering suicide. There was nothing left for her anyhow…it had only been by Meg's and her mother's persistence that Christine had continued to eat and bathe.

"Christine." Meg repeated, seating herself beside her poor friend's sullen figure. "I want to apologize…I realize that he means more to you than I thought. Its obvious you care for him, and it was unfair of me to say what I did."

Christine said nothing. Meg continued. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No Meg." A short pause followed, and Meg stood to leave. As she reached the door Christine barely smiled. "Thank you…"

After Meg had left, Christine changed to a night shift, one of Madame's old things. Though old, it was very elegant, and fit her well. She leaned against a wall beside the window, and gazed hopefully into the shadows.

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Erik could see the light pouring forth from the window in the Girys' apartment. A shadow stood blocking some of the light, and his heart's pace quickened. He would have begun to shout and sing out her name, but even in these desolate streets, he could not call attention to himself. With swift, fluid motion, he ran across the black, cobblestone street, and scaled the building like a lizard. He had been sure to extinguish the street lamps on this block, so he, still swathed head to toe in black, would remain completely invisible.

Christine gasped in shock as a gloved hand appeared upon the windowsill, and nearly screamed, until Erik's signature white mask followed in suit. She granted him entrance into the room, and so thrilled by his presence, held him tightly in an embrace. With gentle, painfully restrained longing, Erik stroked her cheek, and gave her a passionate, enticing kiss.

At that moment, however, Meg returned, and did scream to see Christine and Erik so lovingly displaying their affection. Madame Giry arrived quickly, and even her experienced eyes widened as the lovers embraced. The mother and daughter stood rooted with shock, the Christine and Erik ignoring them, until they finally parted.

"Erik! Where were you!" As Christine pulled away from him, tears of happiness bubbled from her eyes. "I have needed you…"

He kissed away her tears. "I tried to come, the police are everywhere! Forgive me my love."

Christine smiled. "How could I not…" She kissed him again, though this time more gently, and noticed her hosts' presence.

Madame Giry smiled. "Would you two like some privacy?"

Erik stepped back from his wife, though still grasping her hand, and shook his head. "Why no, Madame. It would be quite impolite. And I do believe I have not introduced myself to your daughter. Meg, isn't it?"

Flustered, Meg nodded, extending her hand. "Pleasure to meet you Monsieur."

"Pleasure is mine Mademoiselle…" Erik gently kissed Meg's hand, and then carried on. "Madame, I don't mean to be rude, but I am quite ravenous. Do you happen to have a spare meal on hand?"

Sighing Madame Giry nodded, and the four of them exited the room. Christine clutched Erik's arm possessively, as if afraid she would lose him if she were to let him go.


	14. Chapter XIV: A New Lair

**Thanks for the reviews! Again, it was you who reviewed recently which fueled my writing and reminded me.**

**I guess I have been working on the story for about a year, and not even a year has passed in the story! I am in a bit of a rut from here…for trying to keep that same Phantom spirit is going to be a challenge as their family life begins.**

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The sky was dark when Christine and Erik finally left the their country home. Spring had begun to die, giving way to the birth of an early summer. The voyage to the south was gentle and beautiful, the warm night's chorus serenading the couple as the familiar, but harsh sounds and smells of Paris gradually died away, allowing the rolling countryside to give peace to them.

Christine slept, leaning against Erik's shoulder. Her warm presence, and her still hand upon his made him smile as he ignored the beautiful night sky, and instead gazed lovingly upon his wife. Her chest rose and fell softly, as if in rhythm with the coach. Her hair was now loose, falling upon her shoulders and framing her face. Erik could not take his eyes off of her, and refused to move into a more comfortable position, in fear of rousing his resting spouse.

As the sun eventually began to rise, to the east the sky began to illuminate. Erik carefully extricated himself from her arms, and moved to a better position to control the horse.

Christine finally stirred, as the sky was a brilliant shade of pink. Delighted by the lovely weather, she called out to Erik, but as she saw him working so intently, could not bring herself to do so, and instead admired the countryside. Tall grass and wildflowers were abundant, and every now and then they would pass a field of lilac. Though they had not yet bloomed, they still made for a beautiful picture.

Soon hills had begun to become visible. The sloping ride had begun to tire the horses, and Erik was forced to stop, and rest them. There was a well to the side of the road, and as the animals took in their fill, Christine decided to stretch and walk about. In the midmorning sun, husband and wife sat beside each other. They hardly spoke a word, simply watching the green countryside. Erik felt awkward, still clad in his dark clothing, which really befitted the night. He felt out of place, beside his beautiful Christine, who was a beautiful flower in this countryside. She really did belong out in the open air. She was even more beautiful here, than she was in Paris. After all…she was not raised in the city.

"Erik…" Christine took his hand. "Are you alright?"

"Fine my dear, just fine." He removed his outer cloak, revealing a white, pressed dress shirt. Christine could see that he was fatigued. Knowing he would not rest if she asked him to, she tried a slightly different tactic.

"I am quite tired. Could we perhaps rest here?"

Erik laughed. "You slept quite soundly in the carriage. Do you need more rest?"

"I think that both of us, as well as the horses, could benefit from some rest."

Erik sighed, and allowed the horses a bit more freedom, then lying down beside Christine. She beckoned his head to her lap. Her hands gently caressed his face, and removed his mask. Though she had done this many times before, he still cringed at his exposure. Even her hands upon his marred flesh could not stop his sickened stomach.

"Christine…my mask. Please." His tone was not harsh, but simply quiet. Her smile quickly faded, as she replaced it, but quickly returned as he grasped her hands, and kissed them. It was not to long before he had relaxed, and fallen to sleep.

For hours, they rested and played. Christine removed her shoes and stockings, running barefoot through the grass. Erik, in an attempt to cool off, had cuffed his sleeves and unbuttoned his shirt. This time it was Christine who taught him of the joys and happiness one could have out here in the summer sun, while no one judged you. He particularly enjoyed the small wrestling match they ended up playing out, ripping her dress in the process. If the remainder of his life were to be like this, he would have no argument.

The sun was high before they decided upon resuming their voyage. The day was now quite hot, and both humans and horses were suffering from it. Though they were but a good few hours away from their new home, the anticipation seemed to drag the time as slowly as it could go.

They stopped only once more, to rest and eat, but Erik would not allow them to rest for long. The sun had begun to sink now, and he wished to arrive by nightfall.

By the time they had reached the long, winding drive to the new estate, the first stars had settled in the night sky, and the air had become considerably cooler. A light, gentle breeze made Christine shiver involuntarily, but as she laid eyes upon her new home, she perked up tremendously.

The house was an old farmhouse made of stone, which must have been several hundred years old. The patchwork of each separate brick, and rock, made the house look a bit sloppy, but at the same time strong, durable, and comfortable. Flowers ranging between roses, jasmine, and lilac decorated the area about them, their colors still vibrant in the twilight, and their scent playing upon her nose.

There was a small, equally aged stable nearby, and beside that a pasture, which must have once been used to graze livestock. A small, shaded pond edged in grass was visible, lending to the growth of more flora and foliage.

"I love it…"


	15. Chapter XV: The Servant Boy

**Sorry for the interminable wait guys…I've been a bit preoccupied, but I guess that isn't much of an excuse. I had to let the two of them have some downtime from all the trauma earlier, but it is starting to kick back into action here. I promise you kids, and we will have them…;)**

**Again thank you SOOOOO much to every reviewer. Without you all, I would quit.

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Christine awoke the next morning upon soft white sheets, and for the first time in so long, she awoke to sun streaming gloriously into the room. Her eyes still glazed with sleep, she smiled, and felt Erik's arm around her waist, holding her protectively. She gave his hand a squeeze. Feeling him squeeze back, she turned her head, and saw him staring at her adoringly. _I must be dreaming…_ she thought, unable and unwilling to speak and break the spell the couple simply held each other and stared into one another's eyes.

Erik gave her a tentative kiss, and she responded quite eagerly, accepting his movements, and returning them. She let out a quick gasp of pleasure as his hands explored her body. She gripped his shoulders tightly, tense with physical bliss. He soon rid her of her nightgown, gazing lovingly upon her body, and allowing her, this time, to remove his mask with haste. She found it odd he had not removed every part of her clothing, as he had left her undergarments untouched. She began to pull them loose herself, but found his hands stopping her.

"Don't make this harder than it already is." He growled, trying to conceal the concern in his voice. Christine sat up, drawing the sheets to cover her chest.

"What is wrong? You know I have been wanting you since you left me, and do not even try to tell me that you do not want_ me _even more. "

Erik cursed under his breath. "Try to understand Christine…I almost lost you, and I will _not_ be taking that chance again. I love you, and I do not want to lose you if you die in childbirth. I was afraid for you last time, and I think that this is the _only_ way to ensure your safety. "

Christine was silent, as Erik carefully replaced his mask. She felt tears begin to crowd her eyes, which became crystallized as she began to cry. Erik tried to comfort her, placing an arm around her.

"Christine, my love, don't cry. Please…"

She spoke in a little voice, struggling to get out the words. "Erik…I want children, I want your children. You yourself will not live forever, and what will become of me if I have no one left for me?"

He said nothing to this, but helped her into her clothing, and led her down the stairs, and into a small kitchen area. A wood-burning stove, unused at that moment was situated in the right corner, bowls of fruit sat atop counters. On a table beside a very large icebox, there was milk, cheese and bread.

"First something to eat my dear, we will worry about this later."

"Monsieur?" A small knock sounded on the door. The morning had been uncomfortably quiet, and the voice of a young boy, disrupting their silence, was welcomed by Christine, and but simply disgruntled Erik.

He opened the door, restraining his anger to his best ability. The boy was a bit older than Christine, with a mop of brown hair, and smudges of dirt on his face. He seemed a good-natured fellow, with lively, intelligent green eyes, and an enthusiastic smile.

"Anything I can help you with?"

"Well, Monsieur," The boy answered eagerly. "The people who previously owned this house had some servants, myself and my sister. Since they left, we have been having a difficult time, and would be quite glad to work for you. I see you have two horses, and I am quite good with animals…"

Christine smiled, happy to speak to a person her age, and to break the coldness of their morning. " Of course you can work for us. Would you like something to eat first? How old is your sister?"

"Well, Mademoiselle-"

"It's _Madame_." Erik snapped.

The boy looked flustered. "Excuse me. Madame, I will quite gladly accept your offer. My sister is now only small, about twelve or so, but she can work very efficiently at cleaning, and cooking, and even taking care of children, if you see that on the horizon."

Christine shot a glance to Erik, who tried to ignore her ill temper. The boy took notice, but didn't say anything about it as he helped himself to a small piece of cheese and bread.

"We also have a cat that lives in the barn here, Mitzi, a small gray tabby. She is going to have kittens soon, so I hope you like cats!"

Erik left to work on some music, unable to listen to the boy's chatter, while Christine remained, enjoying his company. The morning passed quickly, as she and the servant boy chatted away. Christine learned that his name was Fabian, and that he andhis sister, Marguerite, had lived at the farm their entire lives. Their mother had been a servant for the family during the day, and at night would make extra money in a very dishonest way. Eventually, she died, and the children remained to work for the owners of the house, Fabian raising his small sister.

"He is very good…" Fabian remarked, listening with a small smile to Erik's music. The piano drifted pleasantly into the room, a soft melody evoking a sad longing in Christine.

"Yes…he is a composer. But he is talented in many other ways as well."

"My sister would surely enjoy this. Every time she even sees that old piano she just can't stop thinking about it. "

Christine laughed. "A girl after the master's heart. I'll see what I can do for her."

The music stopped abruptly as the two of them heard a curse coming from the drawing room. A small, mousy-haired girl dashed toward them.

"I-I am so sorry!" she began to cry. "I didn't mean to interrupt, honest! I just love that music."

Erik walked in, silently fuming at the little girl who had disturbed his concentration. Christine shot him a look of anger, while she tried to comfort the little girl. Fabian glanced up, and seeing Erik's expression, spoke a quick excuse, and left hastily.


	16. Epilogue

**In the next few days I hope to update my dead fanfictions with how I imagined my stories to end. This way, there is some sort of resolution (even if abrupt). Thank you, to all my readers and reviewers! **

**I reread most of this story, and cringed at my sloppy writing. Perhaps I will rewrite this one, if I get the chance, and change it a little so it will make more sense. Definitely a fluff-ball XD I hope you all enjoyed it despite some very obvious plot-holes and repetitive sentences! **

**Here... is the end of Don Juan Triumphant:**

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Christine accepts the offer of Fabian and Marguerite, and convinces Erik to give the young girl voice lessons. In his tutoring of the girl, Erik realizes he would very much like to have a child. Christine and Fabian get alone well – and Christine helps him to be with the woman he loves. Fabian's new wife is also a midwife, very reliable and well instructed. Erik and Christine finally decide to try again, and have a healthy daughter whom they name Aurora. The two of them live out their lives in happiness in the south of France.

Marguerite, several years later, goes to Paris and becomes an accomplished actress, one of the few who knows the secrets of the Phantom – and passes them on to a certain Leroux character...


End file.
